a million years gone by
by littledarkone
Summary: Every Sunday, for the past three years, he’d come to the graveyard and laid fresh white lilies on her grave. He still couldn’t believe she was gone. written for speedrent. CollinsAngel


Three years. Three years since that damn Halloween day when his Angel left him forever. Not a day went by that he didn't think of her, dream of her, wish with all he was that she was back with him, just for one more day.

He'd give anything to hold her, touch her, kiss her...anything. Anything.

Tom Collins sighed. The grave was slowly aging. Wilted flowers lay at the base of stone, hints of his previous visits. Every Sunday, for the past three years, he'd come to the graveyard and laid fresh white lilies on her grave. He still couldn't believe she was gone.

For the first couple weeks, he'd cried himself to sleep. Obviously the first month afterwards had been the worst.. Her scent was everywhere in the tiny apartment they had shared. He didn't know what to do with himself. He couldn't bear to part with all her possessions; her clothes, her makeup, even her dirty socks lay exactly where she last put them. He went to bed every night, longing for her touch, woke up every morning cold from her absence, his pillow damp from the tears he'd shed.

He'd tried his best to go on without her. She had told him, moments before she had died, not to dwell on the painful past, but to move on and live his life with what he'd learned during their time together.

"Don't spend your time mourning, Tom," she'd whispered, stroking his cheek with her cold, shaking hand. "Live your life without regrets, as if it's your last day. Love. Teach. Learn. Don't waste your time thinking about what might have been. Keep me in your heart," her hand drifted from his cheek to his chest, resting on his beating heard, pounding with fright and aching with sadness. "Don't forget me, please don't forget me."

He gave a dry sob, clutching her hand and pressing his lips to it. "I won't," he vowed. "I could never forget you, Angel. I love you...so much. So much, baby."

She gave him a sad sort of smile. "I love you to, Collins." He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, cradling her head in his hands, desperate not to let go.

She'd died then, in his arms, that same sad, haunting smile on her face. He'd hugged her tight, pressing kisses on her short, curly hair. He begged her to come back, to not leave him, to please be okay, _please come back baby, I love you Angel, please don't leave me baby, I love you I love you I love you..._

Collins shivered now, wrapping his coat around him. He still had the same coat she'd bought him three Christmases ago. It was worn and tired with holes and frayed edges, but he'd rather jump off the Statue of Liberty than part with it. He'd already given all her clothing to the homeless shelters, packed what few belongings he'd had left and moved to a small apartment deep in Alphabet City, away from the sad painful memories of Mimi and Roger, long gone now; of Joanne and Maureen, married and living in Long Island; Benny and Alison, living in posh, upstate New York; and of Mark, whom he hardly saw anymore but had gotten dangerously thin since Roger had gone, pale and barely living as it is. They'd suffered so much - couldn't it just be over already?

"Tom."

Collins froze, his heart pounding in his ears. _No...no, it couldn't be._ He slowly turned around, scarcely able to believe his eyes.

"A-Angel?"

She smiled. "Hi, baby."

Collins dropped the bouquet of lilies he'd brought and made his way over to her. He couldn't breathe. "Am...am I dead?"

She laughed lightly, shaking her head. He noticed how beautiful she looked in the dying sun. "No, Collins. You're not dead. You might as well be, though."

He took her into his arms, feeling her pressed against him after all these years, smelling her long-forgotten scent of orange-and-lime shampoo and cheap perfume. She allowed herself to be held, clutching at his shirt and burrowing her face in his shoulder. "What do mean?" he said after a moment, once he was sure she wasn't going to turn to mist and float away.

"You're not listening to me," she said, pulling away and looking up at him. "I told you to move on. You're still living in the past. You may have given away my stuff (thank you, by the way) but you haven't truly moved on."

"I'm afraid I'll forget you," he whispered, grasping her tiny hand between his. She laughed again, bring her hand up to stroke his cheek.

"You won't forget me, I'm sure of that. But, well," here she paused and looked at him. "You haven't much time left, Collins. So get out there and travel, see the world, fall in love, change the course of humanity, cure the common cold, _something_." She smiled. "I just don't want you to regret not doing something when you're..." _dying_. She didn't need to say it. They stood in an awkward silence, his arms around her, her hands on his shoulders, gripping tightly, just staring.

She suddenly leaned up and kissed him with such fervor, he was taken aback for a moment. He quickly gave in, almost crying in joy of feeling her mouth against his once again. All too soon it ended and she was pulling away but he was trying to keep her there just a few moments longer, kissing harder than he'd ever kissed her before.

She finally pulled away, looking up at him with dazed eyes, flushed with love and life. It was almost too good to be true that he was standing with her again, touching her, and he had just kissed her. It was a miracle.

"I love you, Tom Collins," she whispered, closing her eyes and resting her head on his shoulder. "I miss you. I love you so much honey."

"I love you too, my Angel. I love you..." His arms here tightly wrapped around her waist, and he was terrified of losing her again. _I love you, I love you._ It became a mantra in his head, repeated over and over again. _I love you I love you I love you..._

--

Collins awoke with a start, sitting up in bed, clutching his arms around himself. He was crying, hot tears trailing down his face. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He felt unusually warm, and reached up to feel his lips. They still tingled.

He let out a half-laugh, half-sob, and wiped the tears from his face. Pushing the covers off and swinging his feet out of bed, he took no notice of the frigid tile floor, or the bedside clock, which read 3:31. He padded into the kitchen, searching for the phone. He quickly dialed the familiar number. It rang once, twice, three times before a sleepy voice answered.

"Mark? Hey man, it's Collins. Listen, I know this is sort of random an' all, but...d'you wanna go for coffee tomorrow? I haven't seen you in forever, man." He paused, and smiled. "Okay man. See you in the morning." He hung up, feeling happier than he had in years. Angel was right, he couldn't waste his life dreaming about the maybes and might-have-beens. Maybe he'd get Mark, Joanne, Maureen, and maybe even Benny and Allison together and fly to Greece again. He had an urge to visit a certain Parthenon again...

**FIN.**


End file.
